


Beneath the Sun

by OrmondSacker



Series: Beneath The Sun/Desert Wind [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotions, First Kiss, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Baze Malbus, Pining, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9947774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: A sparring session in the desert reveals hidden feelings between Baze and Chirrut.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [ this photo manip](http://kerriss.tumblr.com/post/157722704337/spirit-assassin-manip-9-8-7-6-5-4) by kerriss. Because how could I not
> 
> Edit: Re-uploaded because JuniorWoofles has been kind enough to look this over for my grammatical mistakes. Thank you for that.

The fragrant smell of the blooming  _ shina _ mixes with the dry scent of sand and dust. The day is unusually warm for Jedha even in high summer and Baze has taken of his shirt, tossing it over a nearby rock to keep the desert sand from getting into the fabric. That is the only reason he removes it; it is, after al,l not like Chirrut can see him.

Baze, on the other hand, halfway suspects Chirrut of having ulterior motives for his shirtless state.

"Do you really find it that hot?" he asks. Chirrut usually seems unbothered by neither heat nor cold.

The other man smiles one of his habitual bright smiles, all teeth and gums, that makes his eyes light up in a way that Baze would not have thought possible in a blind man if he wasn't so well acquainted with it.

"You are the one that is always complaining that I don't take the weather into account when I dress. I thought I'd accommodate you."

Maybe it's all in Baze's mind, but he could swear that Chirrut stresses the last two words. No, it definitely all is in his mind. Chirrut hasn't shown any sort of inclinations towards that.

More's the pity. Baze has more than once wondered what his friend would feel like under his hands and not in sparring practice.

But what he can't have, he can't have and Baze has never been one to agonize over it, instead appreciating what he does have. So he picks up the two staffs that are leaned against the rock and tosses one to Chirrut, the blind man catching it with expert grace. A grace Baze never gets enough of watching.

Chirrut swings to face Baze, twirling the staff once before assuming a ready stance, gripping it in both hands. Baze mirrors Chirrut's stance and waits.

The sun is comfortably warm on his naked skin and it gives Chirrut's bare torso an almost golden glow with its balmy rays.

Chirrut too is waiting, unmoving as he faces Baze. That is unexpected, usually he will be the first to attack, always the one to take the offensive.

Puzzled by the lack of action Baze cautiously circles him. Chirrut maintains his stance, not turning to keep his front towards his opponent.

Very strange indeed.

Wary of a trap Baze makes an feint attack at Chirrut's seemingly undefended back. Chirrut spins like a whirlwind, deflecting his blow with ease. There is something on Chirrut's face now, a focus and a hint of annoyance, as if something dissatisfies him. Baze probes again, but finds himself foiled with the same graceful nonchalance.

"Baze the cautious, Baze the studious. Always so careful aren't you?" The mocking tone in Chirrut's voice is as new to Baze as it is hurtful.

"What?"

"Tell me, are you even trying? Or do you ever only play at things?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Baze retorts, feeling his own ire rise at Chirrut's bite.

"Yes what could I conceivably mean? What have you been playing at lately?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about?" Though hurt and offended at Chirrut's tone Baze doesn't want to harm their friendship. Clearly something is bothering his friend, something Baze has been doing, but he has no idea what it is. "Listen, let's stop the training and talk instead."

"Ah yes, of course. Baze the reasonable. How could I forget him. How about we don't." Chirrut's last words are accompanied by a rapid series of blows that Baze only barely manages to turn aside.

Finally Baze's temper comes of its leash. Whatever it is that's eating Chirrut he can damn well come out and say it.

"You want to throw accusations?" Baze snaps as he launches his own assault. "Very well then. How about Chirrut the impertinent? Chirrut the reckless? Chirrut the child, who apparently throws a tantrum when he doesn't get his way."

None of his blows gets through, but they take Chirrut considerable more effort to resist than before.

" _ Tantrum _ ? So I'm supposed to show endless patience with your antics and teasing, is that what you expected of me? Well since you seem so ill informed let me tell you that I am human and that my self restraint has limits to it.  _ So make up your mind! _ "

The sheer frustration in those last words makes Baze fall back and take another look at his friend. There is anger on his face yes, but also a pain underneath. And longing.

Chirrut lashes out at him with his staff, an uncoordinated attack, an act of sheer frustration. Baze easily deflects it.

"Chirrut, I really don't understand. What is it you want me to make up my mind about?"

Finally Chirrut relents, hesitates and falls back as well, planting the tip of his staff in the ground next to his foot.

"You truly don't know?" Chirrut's voice is filled with quiet surprise.

"No."

Chirrut smiles again, a small twitch of his lips at first, but then it grows ever wider until it is no longer just a smile but a full throated laugh. More puzzled than before at his friend's behavior and feeling his usual bewilderment at Chirrut's lighting moods Baze can't help but smile back, Chirrut's laugh as infectious as ever.

"You truly don't. Forgive me then, I thought you were doing it on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Tell me, why have you taken your shirt off?"

Chirrut's head is tilted slightly to one side, listening intently.

"It's... warm?" Baze offers, not certain where this is headed but suddenly feeling very self conscious about his shirtless state.

"Is that the only reason?" There is a strange lightness in Chirrut's voice as he asks.

"What else should there be?"  _ It's not like you can see me. _

Another brief smile flits across Chirrut's lips.

"You know," he says in a tone as if he were addressing an academic assembly hall and not a close friend. "The air moves differently over naked skin than it does over fabric."

Baze swallows hard. "Really?"

"Yes." The smile on Chirrut's face turns impish. "Now are you certain that there is no other reason why you have your shirt off?"

With vivid clarity Baze's mind replays all the times he has done things, flirted in ways that he thought Chirrut wouldn't catch because he can't see. But if this is true then-?

Baze feels his heart drop.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Chirrut's head tilts a little more and Baze can tell that he's being studied closely now.

"What gave you the idea that I'm uncomfortable with this?"

"You never-" his words flounders and fails.

Another smile, this one so gentle it steals Baze's breath, forms on Chirrut's lips. He steps forward until his chest is almost touching Baze's and raises one hand to touch his cheek. His fingers feel like liquid lightning on Baze's skin.

"Baze the gentle. Baze the considerate. The one who will always put other people first and asks nothing for himself. Tell me, my brother, if you could have one thing of me what would it be?"

"I think you know what it is," Baze replies, his voice hoarse and the words nearly catching in his throat.

"Perhaps," Chirrut says mildly. "But I need to hear it. And you need to say it out loud."

Chirrut is standing so close, a few centimeters away, his face turned upwards to Baze's. His features are completely relaxed, composed in patience, but his fingertips still lingers on Baze's cheek, a fact that Baze is supremely aware of.

"I-" he starts but breaks off, hesitates. "I can't. I don't want to lose your friendship."

The fingers turn to a whole palm, cupping his face.

"That will never happen."

Baze breathes deeply, swallows, his heart pounding in his chest and now all too aware that Chirrut  _ sees _ him. That the veil of protection he thought he had was only ever an illusion and that he is being observed by senses keener than a raptor's.

Baze plants his staff in the hard sandy ground, gripping it hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

"I want to kiss you."

He had thought the admittance would send him falling, spiraling into an abyss, but he feels only relief and serenity.

"You can."

He closes the last bit of space between them and wraps one arm around Chirrut's waist, before pressing his lips against Chirrut's.

When he had allowed himself to think about kissing Chirrut at all, he had imagined it to be like being caught in a sandstorm, that his friend would be as passionate and focused in this as he is in everything else. But instead it is gentle, an early morning breeze instead of a storm, caressing him and holding all the promises of what the day might bring.

The skin of Chirrut's chest and back though is every bit as soft and smooth as he thought it would be.

The soft thud of first Chirrut's staff, then Baze's own, falling forgotten onto the sand is lost to him, caught in the sensation of Chirrut's lips as he is, of the gentlest brush of breath into his mouth and all time and space falls away.

When it ends the shape of his world has forever altered.

He studies Chirrut as the man stands motionless in his arms, lips slightly parted, a faint blush on his cheeks. This is a very different man than the one who spars and shares meals with him, whom he has shared the joys and sorrows of his life with since they both came to the temple over fifteen years ago. Even from the one who will stay up long into the hours of the night as they talk.

There is something vulnerable in this Chirrut, exposed and defenseless as he stands there, his arms around Baze's shoulders.

"When did you figure it out?" Baze asks, finally breaking the silence and the moment dissolves as Chirrut grins brightly.

"It took a while. Far too long in fact. But it was your blade practice with master Shi last summer. Your style changed when you realized I was there, you were showing off."

Baze can feel a blush creep up the back of his neck. He  _ had  _ been showing off when he'd noticed Chirrut standing by the wall, a silent audience.

"I didn't realize you could see me. Not that well anyway."

"And now that you do?"

Baze runs his hand over Chirrut's naked back. A small, startled gasp escapes the man at the affectionate touch.

"It isn't just your hearing that is very keen, is it?" Baze observes.

"No." There is a small catch in Chirrut's voice when he answers.

Baze smiles, gently takes Chirrut's chin in his hands and presses his lips against Chirrut's again so the other man can feel his smile.

"Really?" he says.

"Yes."

The soft press of lips becomes another kiss.

"You're suddenly very enthusiastic," Chirrut observes between slow pecks.

"It seems I have something to make up for."

The summer sun continues its journey across the sky, implacable in its indifference to all but the natural laws of the universe, its rays shining down on the red desert sands and on the two men lovingly embracing each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://luminousfinn.tumblr.com)?


End file.
